The Streetwalker's Son
by missineichen
Summary: Follow Christian Grey through the dark passages of his childhood.


**A/N: If you'd like me to continue, please review, fav, follow :)**

He had his hands in her hair, the tendrils of blonde wrapped around his coarse fingers. He was slamming mommy's forehead into the wall. Over and over, again and again. Blood was pouring out of her nose, like an open faucet. The red was running down her neck, splattering against the wall like red paint to white canvas.

"You stupid bitch! I told you to get rid of it! Every dollar and cent is supposed to line my pockets, not fill some newborn little bastard's stomach!" he hissed, smashing mommy's face into the wall once more.

Mommy screamed, her hysterical animal shrieks echoing against the walls of our dingy water-stained, urine-stenching flat. She was pleading with _Daddy-O._

Begging him, "Please, please stop! If you let me keep this one, if you let me, I promise it'll be the last one! It's a girl, Owen, a girl!"

"I don't care if it's a girl, boy, or a fucking dog in there, if you don't get rid of it, I'll get rid of it for you!" Daddy-O snarled, throwing a heavy kick into mommy's smooth rounded belly, sending mommy doubling over.

"Just… Please, let me keep her! Christian needs company, it would make him so happy to have a baby sister!" mommy gasped desperately. Daddy-O sent another foot into mommy's tummy. By now, she was sliding against the wall, huffing and puffing for breath, pale as a ghost against the pain.

As I stood in the corner of the room watching helplessly, a lone cockroach scuttled across my bare feet, and I squealed involuntarily. Daddy-O paused momentarily mid-stride, his hands still tangled in mommy's hair. He stared at me, his bloodshot-beady eyes boring into mine.

"You little shit! What are you doing here?! I thought I told you to stay in your room," he hissed.

I stood statue-still, quiet as a mouse. Frozen stiff, I had no idea what to do. In this cell-sized flat, there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I was a goner. From my mind's eye, I could see my meager little life evaporate before my very eyes.

"What, are you deaf?! Answer me, you little bastard!" he spat, as he advanced towards me.

With a desperate howl, mommy collapsed to the floor, eyes almost swollen shut, nose broken, teeth missing. She grasped Daddy-O by the ankles, pleading with him. "No, don't you touch him! Owen, you stay away from him!"

Daddy-O snarled, landing another heavy boot into mommy's belly, winding her completely. She lay crumpled on the floor, clawing at her belly. "Ohh God, it hurts… I-I think I'm… I'm having a… Ohh Ohhh there's blood, so much blood! Miscarriage!" mommy gasped.

The pool of red was spreading from underneath mommy's skirt, growing quickly like a cancer, spreading across the dirty linoleum floor. Daddy-O ignored mommy's cries for help. Grasping my roughly by the scruff of my neck, he landed a heavy blow against the back of my head, snapping my head forwards. I felt like I had been hit by a cannonball.

"You listen to me boy, and you listen good! Your mother's nothing but a knocked-up crack Whore! If you think I'm gonna let her spend another dime of my money feeding you, you've got another think coming! From now on, every penny she earns, I keep!"

"Owen, please! Please! It's… Oh God… I can feel it, Jesus, help! Miscarriage! Call 911!" mommy wept and wheezed, as the blood pooled beneath her feet.

Owen stepped callously over mommy's writhing body, "Let's hope it _is _a miscarriage. Consider it a free abortion, Ella." Owen spat, slamming the front door behind him.

With Daddy-O out of the way, I ran to mommy, falling to her side. Hugging her tightly, I dissolved into desperate tears. "Mommy! Mommy! Please don't die!"

"Mommy's not dying, sweetheart. But I'm in a lot of trouble… Your baby sister's coming, way too early, and I need you to be a big brave boy and call 911, okay?" mommy instructed, rivulets of tears coursing down her pale puffy face.

"Okay mommy!" I cried, running to the phone. I dialed 911.

"This is 911, what is your emergency?" came a cool crisp voice.

"Hi! My mommy's really hurt! She's having a baby but she's got blood everywhere! You gotta help her or she'll be dead!" I wept, the hysterical words tumbling out of me.

"Okay, okay sweetheart, stay calm. I need you to pass the phone to your mommy, okay?" the Operator instructed.

I ran to mommy, pressing the phone against her cheek because she was too weak to hold the phone up. "Ohhh Ooohhh God Ohhh! It's coming, please! H-Help… I can't! Please!" mommy shrieked.

"Ma'am, Ma'am I need you to calm down," the Operator instructed.

"J-Jesus… Ohhh God this hurts! I-I-I can't do this!" mommy gasped.

"Okay I understand, I need you to pass the phone back to you child, okay?" the Operator emphasized.

Mommy shoved the phone at me, "Talk! Please, Christian! I-I can't! I'm in a lotta pain for Godsakes!"

I pressed the phone against my ear, my vision blurry with tears. The Operator spoke. "Hello? Sweetheart? Sweetheart, do you know your home address?"

I scrunched up my nose, forcing myself to remember. Mommy had taught me it, in case I got lost going out to get dinner. She had to work evenings and nights, see, so whenever I got hungry, all I had to do was to reach into the little coin-tin and scuttle down to the 7-11 at the foot of our flat.

"Honey? Are you still there?" the Operator asked urgently. "Try to be brave, now. I need your home address."

I took a deep shuddering breath. "Okay, we live in Flat 13C Kensington Housing Estate, 141 Halley Avenue, Detroit 48201!"

"Alright honey, we're sending someone over there right now."

"Okay! Thank you! Bye!" I cried gratefully.

"No, no hang on, stay on the line sweetheart. I want to make sure you and your mom are okay."

I nodded my head vigorously, immensely relieved. After all, God knows I couldn't do this on my own. Not at the tender age of Four.


End file.
